Schoolstuck
by Lil Hal
Summary: What if all the trolls were humans and going to a school...run by Andrew Hussie? Join us on this interesting adventure with crazy students, odd teachers, interesting janitors, and an insane principal! Rated T for language of basically everyone!
1. Chapter 1

"KARKAT! GET DOWN YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW OR ELSE NO BREAKFAST FOR YOU!" I jerked forward, driven out of my sleep by the screaming sounds of my mother. She sounded upset…as always. There's never a fucking day when I got some love out of her. Never.

I sat up in my bed, breaking into a huge yawn while raising my arms to stretch. I checked my clock—6 a.m. Confused, I blinked and rubbed my eyes, then checked my calendar. Yes…it was Sunday…why the _hell_ would I need to get up so freaking early? Couldn't I enjoy my last day of summer before school started back up?

Well, to heck with what my mother thought. _I _deserved some sleep everyone once in a while. I plopped back down against my soft pillow and closed my eyes, drifting back into a wonderful, comfortable slumber. Unfortunately, it didn't last long.

"KARKAT. FUCKING. VANTAS. GET DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE YOU DISOBEDIENT PIECE OF SHIT!" I sat up again, groaning. I might as well get up…it gets really crazy when my mom has to yell more than twice. I slipped out of bed and dragged my feet all the way to my closet so I could, obviously, get dressed for the day.

I picked out my best outfit—an old black hoodie and a worn pair of pants—and put them on. Okay, so they clearly _weren't_ my literal best pair of clothing, but they were the only adequate pair. I stared at my numerous amounts of suits and name-brand clothes. I hated being so fucking rich. It was ridiculous.

See, I guess not having to worry about when or what I was going to eat for supper was nice, but the world had a full-of-shit idea. The decade I lived in considered "the money spectrum" to be one of the most important fucking things ever. If you had lots of money, you were important and popular and amazing, but if you didn't, well…you were basically a nobody. The only thing that was more frowned upon than poor people were the rich-ass people who were once poor. Nobody liked it when the money spectrum was messed up by the overachieving peasants who decided to actually make a living. You're only liked if your money-line is pure, as long as you come from a chain of rich people who just merely hand down the fortune. But, shit, if your parents actually WORKED to get their status? Well, fuck you then. And that's where I'm at. My spot on the money spectrum is so looked down upon, so abnormal, that I could never bear to let anyone know.

I ran downstairs after changing before my mom can start another stream of profanities and angry yelling. I reached the bottom of the stairs just as my mom let out the first syllable of my name.

"KAR—oh there you are! Well, it's about time you got off your lazy ass and came downstairs," my mom grumbled, looking very mad…as always.

"Well excuse me for wanting to enjoy my fucking Sunday by sleeping in. Who the hell gets up this early anyways?" I mumbled back, sitting down at the breakfast room table to eat my poorly-prepared oatmeal. My little baby sister Katree was eating some Cheerio's and looking smugly at me. I gave her a glare in return.

"Karkat, DON'T MUMBLE. I can't hear a word you're saying! Speak the hell up!" My mom yelled at me, violently slapping pancakes for herself onto a plate. She turned to me, crossing her arms. "Now what the shit did you say young man?"

"I SAID," I raised my voice to match her loud tone. You'd think I'd be used to this by now, but I wasn't. It still pissed me off. "THAT I WANT TO ENJOY MY FUCKING SUNDAY!"

"You're such a rebellious idiot," complained my mom, "So fucking disrespectful. I can't wait to send you off."

"WELL you're—"her words dawned on me. "Wait what? Send me off where?"

She didn't reply, instead slathered butter onto her pancakes.

"WHERE THE FUCK AM I GOING?!" I screamed, getting up from my chair. Shit, if she didn't tell me now, I'd be even more pissed.

My mom shoved something into my hand abruptly, making me recoil for a moment. I expected her to slap me or some shit, but instead she gave me…

What did she give me? I looked at the item in my hands with, well, curiosity, obviously.

**Thanks everyone for the reviews and favorites and follows, everyone! I'm totally psyched for this story and I hope you all are too! **


	2. Chapter 2

I stared down at the envelope in my hands blankly. It was sealed with a stamped, lime green wax picture of a house. I opened it, ripping the seal unceremoniously to reach what was inside. There was, of course, a letter inside, so I pulled it out and opened it.

"'Congratulations, Karkat Vantas!'" My voice trailed off for a moment as I read that first, bolded line. "Well, what the hell did I 'win' now…'You have been picked to be one of the twelve students to go to the special school run by Andrew Hussie! At the school you will take high school and even college-level classes to embrace your genius! You will start school Monday, September 10th, at our school in Georgia. Your flight has been prepared for you—your guardian should have received the tickets. Keep up the good work!'" Georgia? They must think I was pretty fucking smart if they were going to pay to send me all the way to there from California.

My eyes flicked up to my mom, who was looking rather pleased. Too pleased. "What the actual fuck did you do now, mom?" I yelled, raising my voice in anger. Who knows, she probably paid them an ass-load of money to send me off to that place. "I don't want to go to any special-shit school!"

Shrugging, my mom replied calmly—which is bad because she's never calm—"Oh, I thought it'd be good for you. It's not like you have any friends anyhow."

I practically exploded with curse words at her, and I turned to stomp back up to my room. My footsteps made hard thumping sounds against the cold marble floor. Fuck you mom, fuck you mom, FUCK YOU MOM.

"Your flight leaves in an hour! Make sure you are down here in 10 minutes!" My mom yelled back up at me. I groaned and stormed back down after grabbing a few of my items that I'd need if I seriously was forced to go to this crappy school.

"Good morning class!" Monday morning at some god-damned time, I stood in the very small crowd of people, watching the principal Andrew Hussie greet us. He looked like such a spectacle that I didn't even bother to look around at my new classmates and teachers. I didn't even know skin could be orange. But his was, almost as if he was spray-tanned. He looked rather wimpy, too, no way in shape. His brown hair was tufty and uncombed, and he had a maniacal look about him. I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

"I hope you all enjoyed your flights. Welcome to my school—Hussie's Obtuse, Mercurial, Effervescent School to Unaspired, Cacophonous Kids! We here at this school like to call it Homestuck for short." Hussie's what? Shit, if they thought I was so smart that I should automatically know those words, then they must have gotten the wrong fucking kid.

I hurt some other kids snort. "Homestuck? More like Schoolstuck." "I wish I was stuck at home. It'd be much better than here…" Whispering filled the auditorium, a surprisingly loud amount of sound for such a small amount of students. My eyes remained fixed on the absurd Mr. Hussie.

"We have picked you twelve—the best students from across America—to attend our school. This is our second year in the running. Now let me explain to you what happens here at this school," He paused for effect, scanning his gaze over every single one of us. "You twelve students will be starting your high-school courses in a matter of hours. This means you'll be expected to know the eighth-grade curriculum you've never been taught."

As Mr. Hussie paused again, more angry whisperings filled throughout the room. Obviously no one had anticipated that we wouldn't even get a review of the fucking shit we were supposed to learn this year in normal school. I was fine with that anyways, I was fucking sure I was good enough to catch on to the eighth-grade-bullshit.

"There are six females and six males, so each gender will get their own six-roomed dorm, which is complete with a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom." Mr. Hussie was starting to pick up the pace of his speech (or whatever the fuck you'd call it) and started pacing on the auditorium stage, hands behind his back as if he was the most important person in the world. "Lights-out is whenever the hell you want, just make sure you aren't out of your dorm past 3 in the morning, or else very bad things may go down. I'm not going to waste my time telling you all the rules, you'll find out when you break them. If you break rules two or less times, you'll receive detention. Any more than that," he fixed us with a smile, "And you'll be expelled."

What the fuck? He wouldn't give us the freaking rules but yet he expects us to not break them over two times? What kind of horseshit was that? I didn't have time to ponder—he was continuing his talk.

"Now then, because I very well understand how ignorant you all are, I will give every one of you TWO chances here. Which means, if you're expelled once, you aren't expelled, you still have one expelling left. Makes sense? Good. But if you're expelled twice, you're actually expelled and therefore you are done at this school. Oh, and in order to stay at this school after your first expelling…someone has to kiss you on the lips." He grinned as everyone groaned.

"Kith on the lipth? What the fuck ith wrong with you? You're theriouthly thick." A bored, lisping voice asked loudly from the group of students. Everyone single one of us, including Mr. Hussie, turned to stare at him. He was some odd-shit kid wearing 3D glasses or something, and he was no longer paying attention to us. He was doing something on his phone.

Mr. Hussie started laughing. All of us turned back to him as he chuckled in a crazy manner. "Hehe, I like this kid. I can tell he's going to get in a shitload of trouble someday, so I think I'll give him an extra chance. Three expellings before he's expelled!"

The auditorium of students exploded into a potluck of angry noises from the other students. They were seriously pissed off. Honestly, I didn't give a fuck about it, so I stayed quiet, eyes fixed on the principal who was still looking amused.

"I believe I've covered everything now," Mr. Hussie thrust his hands into his pockets and started to walk off into behind the curtain of the stage. As he lifted the edge of the curtain up, he turned and smiled at us. "Good luck, kids."

I sighed. With a principal like that, all of us were in for a fucking ride at this school.


	3. Chapter 3

I walked out of the auditorium, crossing the courtyard that led to a rather small building that read "This is Homeroom, dumbass." I stepped inside, discovering I was the first one there. Smirking a bit, I sighed contentedly.

"Aah, peace and quiet." I looked around the room and noticed the homeroom teacher, who was on his old-looking phone, smoking a pipe, and wearing a fedora. He was reclining on a seat behind his desk, not paying attention to me. Like I cared anyway. I also noticed that the room was decorated with harlequin art…kind of creepy.

I found my desk with a brown package labeled 'Karkat Vantas.' I opened it, greeted with a blast of fucking confetti in my face. Oh shit, no. The homeroom teacher chuckled, glancing my way. I flipped him off promptly and went back to my package. I pulled the first thing out—a piece of paper labeled 'A Fatherly Note.' What the actual fuck. This guy's NOT my father. Why the hell would he give me a 'fatherly' note? Oh well…I read the note anyways.

'A Fatherly Note:

Hello Karkat Vantas, and welcome to H.O.M.E.S.T.U.C.K.! I hope you are enjoying it so far. Enclosed in this package is confetti, a key to your dorm, your schedule, and a field trip form for you to fill out and pay for and turn in tomorrow. I am so proud of you, you're finally becoming a responsible adult.

Your homeroom teacher,

Mr. Egbert.'

What. The. Actual. FUCK. I didn't even know. This guy was off his rocker, obviously. I was so caught up in reading that note that I didn't notice people had come in. I didn't bother to turn around anyways, I honestly didn't give a shit about socializing. I realized there was also a cupcake sitting on my desk, labeled 'From Mr. Egbert.' Oh my god. I was hungry though, so I ate it.

I was finishing up the baked good when I heard the door close and someone gasp. Then, in a low, odd-sounding voice:

"Holy shit, this décor is all up and SO motherfucking legit man."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, looking down at my schedule. Art, Math, History, Family Life, Science, and lastly English. Fuck, I had to take Family Life? Utter crap.

The bell rang to start the actual school day, so I grabbed my things and walked out of homeroom. I checked my schedule for the room number of Art, but there was nothing but the word 'Art' there. What the hell. How do they expect me to make it to the fucking class if there's no way of me being able to discern where to go? I turned a corner, and was greeted by a huge building that was paint-splattered horrendous colors. Could it be? I walked up to the door, pushing it open.

Inside, a rather short and pale lady greeted me. She was wearing a pink hood, blue blouse, green belt, and yellow skirt. I blinked twice to get used to the blast of color. Oh good god, I dearly hoped this wasn't our Art teacher. Between her choice of dress and the outside of the actual building, I would almost rather writhe on the ground in a puddle of snail slime than have this be our art teacher. But the fact that she was carrying a pail of paint made me think my suspicions were true.

"Welcome to Art class," she said, in a light voice. I groaned inwardly. What bullshit was Mr. Hussie pulling on me now? What did I do to him? The teacher continued to talk. "My name is Ms. Paint. I think you're Karkat Vantas, yes? Your seat is over there, next to Mister Zahhak's. It's in alphabetical order for now. I'll let you pick your own seat later."

I didn't know who the fuck 'Mister Zahhak' was, but I could tell where my seat was from where Ms. Paint pointed. I took a seat at the second-to-last desk and pulled out a notebook. I was sitting down for very long when the other students came in.

**Okay so this is kind of short, but I wanted to leave it here for now. Thanks again for all the reviews I've been getting! It makes me really happy you guys. Please leave a review on this chapter! I'd like to know how well I'm portraying the characters, if there's any complaints you have, and what you'd like to see in the future chapters. Thanks!**


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